Blended Family Stress: How ADHD and Autism Made Family Dinners Overwhelming

(Why Our Blended Family Dinner Nearly Broke Me)

Okay, so here’s the deal. Family dinners? The whole “everyone-laughing-around-the-table-like-a-darn-Campbell’s-commercial” thing? I was obsessed. Seriously, I thought if I could just nail that, I’d have this magical, tight-knit family straight out of a movie. Spoiler alert: reality does not care about your Instagram fantasies.

Our blended family dinners? Chaos. Not even the fun kind, honestly. I’d spend half the day plotting out meals, convinced that if I just found the right combo, everyone would dig in and world peace would be achieved by dessert. Instead, I’d get to the table basically running on fumes, only to find…surprise!....the main course was about to start World War III.

Patrick, who’s autistic, would sometimes take one look at the plate, make a face, and announce, “I don’t like that,” like he was personally offended by broccoli. Same exact food he loved last week, by the way. This could flip into full-on, “I’m not eating unless Ben makes me something else” mode at lightning speed. Ben, of course, panicked and microwaved mac and cheese.

Meanwhile, Will? Dude’s like a monk at dinner. Sits there and actually eats. No drama, just serenity. He’s got his quirks, don’t get me wrong, but dinner with him was easy, almost suspiciously so. He had a few things we wouldn’t eat, but I was usually met with “That was delicious”. Until we discovered things weren’t peachy at the other home.

The difference nearly knocked me out. My ADHD brain felt like squirrels fighting in a cereal box…noise, mess, pressure, all tumbling together. And what did I do? Blamed myself, naturally. Maybe if I was more organized, or a better cook, or whatever. Anything but admitting that the storybook version of things might just be, you know, fiction.

Things really hit the fan one night when I just left the table, ugly-crying mid-dinner, fork in hand, mortified and exhausted. I’d bent over backwards for this perfect meal and ended up feeling like a total flop instead. That’s when it hit me: maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the broken one. Maybe I just needed to smash that stupid “ideal family dinner” fantasy.

So I finally said screw it.

We tossed the traditional dinner routine in the trash. Switched gears to smaller, looser rituals instead—like grabbing breakfast one-on-one, eating takeout on the couch in pajamas, letting Patrick choose his meal so it wasn’t a daily battle. Less pressure, more real connection.

And you know what? Life got easier. The tension started to melt away, bit by bit. I started cooking from scratch the things he loved so I still got my “cooking fix”.

It’s still messy—sometimes dinner is a circus, sometimes it’s weirdly peaceful, and it’s never, ever magazine-worthy. But it’s us. It’s genuine. I’m finally finding connection in those imperfect, for-real moments, not in chasing some dumb idea of perfection.

Listen: If family expectations ever feel like they’re squeezing the life out of you, especially in a blended family where “simple” left the chat ages ago, you’re not alone. Real connection might look nothing like what you planned. Sometimes the most meaningful stuff sneaks up once you ditch the “shoulds” and just do what actually fits your family.

 If family life feels overwhelming or never quite “picture perfect,” Anchored Coaching can help. Support for ADHD, Autism, blended families, and life coaching starts here.